Wednesday, June 01, 2016

DERAILED: Nancy Stohlman's Interrupted Journey

Nancy Stohlman

Writer, Performer, Musician

This spot was destined for Nancy Stohlman's Journey to Planet Write;
however, fate intervened on an interstate near Denver on Friday 5/20 when
she was hit head-on by another car. She's home now but suffered a
broken elbow along with the 6 broken ribs

It just doesn't feel right for me to fill this space with someone else's
journey and hopefully at some point in the future, Nancy will write her own
story, but in the meantime, I decided to ask a few of Nancy's friends to
contribute stories, comments, photos, anything to honor Nancy.

Brought to you by Women Who Flash Their Lit

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From Sally Reno:

"One day, a couple of years ago, Nancy sent me an email which read, 'This is what I had left after editing 40 pages of a dystopian novel.' She attached the following:

Indentured

How much are you getting paid to do this? he asks, a crease in his forehead.Enough to pay off my student loans I said, as he begins to tattoo the Coca-Cola logo across my face.

~Nancy Stohlman

Look how much she gets done in 37 words: scores at least three direct hits on the social condition, makes a funny and creates a memorable character. Wow!"

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From Meg Tuite

~the
world does rotate

We are in New York reading for the kickass flash anthology, Fast Forward: A Collection of Flash Fiction,
edited by Nancy Stohlman, Kona Morris, and K. Scott Forman. It is my first
reading outside of New Mexico.

“You’re next,” Nancy says. She illuminates blasts of
greater shores to push toward. Every bit of her is lit electric beauty and
bemused camaraderie.

The rest is a blur of acting as though it’s no struggle at
all; I’m used to this, I’m not about to barf. I see Nancy’s wild smile
somewhere in the midst as she asks me to “eat the mic.” I put my mouth over it
and get laughs. That rocks me through the rest of the reading.

I become a groupie. I send my work to all of their
anthologies and go to all of their readings in Denver, Portland, New York,
Denver, Denver, and Denver. The LOVE is HUGE with talent, humor, and a damn
great time!

In Portland we started shooting rubber bands when a guy
glued himself to the mic and read on and on and on while the bartender and
waitresses were putting up chairs and closing the place down. He was deeply
embedded in his words, unwilling or unable to notice he had lost his audience
long ago. As one of my favorite poet’s, Bill Yarrow, put it in one of his poems
about poets: ‘Just two more...”

I’ve been going to Denver for the last six years to read and
hear some of the best voices out there. Nancy Stohlman is a phenomenon. Her
work is extraordinary, like her being, and she rocks it from flash master to
writing and starring in a published opera, to the wild-ass lounge singer of
heavy metal songs in her band, “Kinky Minx.”

There is no one like her and never will be. Her work is
fearless and without limits. Stohlman is yes, mythical beauty, an unparalleled
writer, teacher, and promoter of her peers, but, never to be diminished is her
beyond the beyond hilarity, her sidelong glance, her passing remark that has me
running to the bathroom after spitting out my beer.

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From Kathy Fish

"Nancy and I read at Syntax Physic Opera as part of Monique Lewis's At the Inkwell reading series in February! It was a great night and Nancy of course knocked it out of the park reading her amazing stories.

From Ashley Inguanta

About Nancy's story "My Father is Trying to Set the World Record for Days Spent Petting a Shark"I love works of flash that use extraordinarily small canvasses, and there is so much to admire about this story. This work of micro fiction brings my fingers over the shark's skin, over and over, and I am fascinated. I feel the power and weight of goals, the uncertainty of dead air. Will the shark snap? Or will the father keep all of his fingers? For now, we wait.Here is Nancy's story, nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Blink-Ink.

My Father is Trying to Set the World Record for Days Spent Petting a Shark

The trick, he says, is to just lightly move the fingers. The shark has the frozen, unimpressed expression of all sharks. Are you coming home for dinner? I can’t stop now, he said. It’s only been 9 hours. It’s about goals, he added. Your mother never taught you the importance of having a real goals.

From Jayne Martin

Nancy is the
personification of fairy dust. She creates magic in every word she writes and
then, if you aren’t already sufficiently mesmerized, damned if she won’t
tantalize you with tunes in a voice so seductive that the Sirens of the sea bow
to her awesomeness.

After meeting on a
Facebook writer’s page, taking her flash fiction class, and swooning over her
collection, “The Vixen Scream & Other Bible Stories,” I got to meet and
hang out with Nancy at AWP a few weeks ago.She was as lovely a human being as she is a talented writer, and I’m
honored to call her my friend.

It is said that
there are no accidents in the Universe, and I believe that.On her death bed, Nora Ephron’s mother told
her to take notes because everything is copy.I say it’s all fodder for flash and I can’t wait to see what Nancy’s
brilliance makes of this experience.

According to
medical experts, Nancy, you shouldn’t be here, but you are because the world
needs your gifts, and the people who love you need that beacon of light that is
your incredible spirit.Sending you
bushels of love and healing energy, my friend.

9 comments:

Paul Beckman
said...

I love Nancy. She's a friend, teacher,editor, cheerleader and a wonderful writer. Zany comes to mind in some of her stories. I read last year in Denver at her invitation and got to meet some of the names I know by their writing. It was a blast. Hurry and get better, Nancy, we're all waiting.

I learned about the accident yesterday. I'm sorry but grateful you're alive. You radiate light and are one of the writers/teachers I look up to. I valued each class session taught and feedback that was given. I'll be praying for your recovery.-Tisha

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FEAR

Fear freezes creativity. Failure cracks the ice. You can let yourself slip into the cold water or you can grapple for purchase and scream for help until you are once again donning your ice skates and cutting an elegant figure-eight. -Gay Degani

What is Flash Fiction?

Flash fiction is to traditional short stories what lightning is to a storm… Thunder, rain, sleet, wind and lightning are all part of the excitement of a full blown nor’easter or afternoon thunderstorm. The rush of hard rain opens our eyes; its steady drum on the roof soothes us until that first roll of thunder raises our pulse; lightning makes us anticipate and 1-2-3 count. Then rain again and we wait for another loud crack, more electrical fireworks, the clouds to clear, the skies to blue. A good storm is filled with promise, surprise, fear, suspense, relief, joy, and sometimes sadness. So is a good story. -Gay Degani

And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
~Shakespeare